Bitter Last Days
by S.N. Rainsworth
Summary: There is a fine line between love and hate. There is a gate between one world and another. And there's a whole bridge between brother and brother. The first time Edward Elric ever killed was when he was thirteen. One-shot. Now Edited.


**_..:: Bitter Last Days ::.._**

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**"Enjoy when you can, endure when you must. There is no excuse for pain." **

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_There is a fine line between love and hate. There is a gate between one world and another. And there's a whole bridge between brother and brother.  
__The first time Edward Elric ever killed was when he was thirteen. _

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**_How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?  
Leading you down into my core, where I've become so numb,  
Without a soul, my spirit is sleeping somewhere cold,  
Until you find it there and bring it back..._**

**_Home... _**

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**_._**

He snorted, walking in a lazy gait toward the door of his superior's office. Edward Elric had just came back from a particularly fruitless mission - another one to the collection, added by his stupid, bastardy, good-for-nothing commanding officer. His startling red cloak was drenched, and his long golden plait was wet from the ongoing rain outside. He had been ordered to send the report in first hand - two hours ago - and Alphonse demanded that he go and give it in. Edward had complied, before eyeing the rain outside. It wasn't a drizzle; yet it wasn't a complete storm, either. Still, he had ordered Alphonse in his best State Alchemist voice to stay inside; his little brother happily stayed. It seemed Alphonse wasn't willing to take risks on his blood seal.

Abruptly, Edward also remembered about his automail. Once he got into Headquarters, the first thing he alchemically dried was the cold metal attached to his shoulder and leg. The rest, he decided to leave alone, hoping it would bother the Colonel about the mess he was making. Plus, he kind of liked the rain on his skin.

Edward burst through the doors, wet, miserable, and ports aching although they weren't tormented by the liquid. Mustang looked ticked, but instead raised an eyebrow at the blonder man's appearance.

"Ran through a storm, Fullmetal?" the dark haired, pale skinned man questioned, a hint of a smirk on his face. Edward scowled, and handed in a neat manila envelope in his loopy, cursive handwriting. Despite having to hate writing reports, his ego didn't allow him to make it messy or dirty. That only happened when he was really pissed off at the Colonel.

Edward scowled, and mumbled something inaudible before sighing. "Listen, Colonel Bastard," he started off, the crude nickname coming easily. "It's raining, I feel pain everywhere, and I want to sleep, okay? So lets just get this over with."

Hawkeye stared at the short alchemist speculatively, then nodded at the Colonel. Mustang pursed his lips and adopted a serious look on his face which caused Edward to raise an internal eyebrow.

"I just wanted to warn you, Fullmetal. There's a killer on the loose - ("What else is new?" Ed muttered.) - and he's something else. I want you to look into it, if possible, and stop the crimes."

"So, the usual?" Edward replied wearily. He fought the urge to crumple to floor when he shifted the weight on his foot, shoots of pin-prick needle-like pain crawling up his leg. He grabbed the folder from Hawkeye's outstretched hand rather excessively, then looked slightly confused at how his automail was acting. He passed it off as an abnormality and whispered a muffled, "Sorry," to the blonde woman.

"If that's all, 'm gonna leave." he turned around without another word, and thought no more of it when Colonel Mustang didn't stop or berate him.

**.**

**.**

**_We're just human beings. Insignificant human beings that couldn't even save one little girl. _**

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**_._**

It rained more heavily now.

The drops poured mercilessly, stinging his face and cheeks. His matted plait banged against his back as he walked jauntily; it bothered him, as well as his coat and clothes did as they soaked up water and dragged him down. He grumbled, but removed his red hair tie and tied his hair in a way that he had adopted from his mother, free and thrown over his shoulder until it was tied up near the very end. He didn't care, but it brought a little more warmth and a sense of nostalgia.

Edward tucked the folder inside his jacket a little more protectively; though he had no more a wish than to throw it in the garbage. But there was sense of uneasiness in the air. He felt like there was something wrong, and it created a rather melancholic feeling that washed over him. There was something...off. He could feel it.

He brought himself to walk quicker, make his footsteps lighter, to go faster. Golden eyes darted back and forth from beneath choppy, blonde bangs. His breathing quickened; his heartbeat raced; his mind went paranoid.

What the hell felt wrong?

It was nagging at him, creating a bad, tugging feeling at the pit of his stomach and staying there. He continued his journey to the usual hotel they stayed at, not noticing as the rain pelted on him harder. No, because as he reached the front door of his destination, as he was just about to open the door to their temporary residence, a chilling, bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, and the feeling in his stomach was joined with his heart as it dropped down a second later.

That voice was unmistakably Alphonse's.

**.**

**.**

Paling, Edward Elric dropped everything on hand and burst through the door, ignoring the looks of shocked people. He ran up the stairs; he didn't even need to know what room Alphonse had gotten them, because the door was crowded with workers at the scene. Going nearer down the hallway, he noticed that the door was banged; the clear sign of a struggle of someone trying to get in. As he got closer, he moved to reach the door, nothing else going through his mind except to check if Alphonse was there.

"Oi! Brat, move over!" Edward snapped his head toward the blonde haired bellboy he recognized from the lobby and who had just gotten the nerve to push him. He didn't even move and inch from his spot and rounded on the boy. The blonde stumbled back a few steps when he caught the anger in furious golden eyes. Edward growled threateningly, and grabbed the taller boy by the collar of his shirt and jerked him down to the alchemists' level.

"You wanna test me, punk?" he hissed, eyes flashing. "That's my room right there, and my little brother just screamed bloody hell! So I suggest getting out of my damn way, before I rip out your fuckin' spine and use it as floss." Evidently, Edward's point had gotten through nicely, and the boy just nodded meekly. Edward let go of the bastard, and he scrambled off, just as the manager came over.

"Mr. Elric!" The dark haired man looked fairly relieved and distressed. "Mr. Elric, we have something serious on our hands," he solemnly explained, and Edward felt like ripping out his hair. Of course this was something serious! Was this man stupid or something? He needed to see his little brother!

Even still, he refrained himself as the manager began to speak. He was talking about the damage done to the room, and Edward couldn't take it anymore. "What happened to Alphonse?" he demanded, patience running thin. There was a particular heat in his stomach, as if something was burning.

The manager looked at a loss for words, and Edward briefly wondered if he was avoiding the topic on purpose. "I...I think you should see for yourself, Mr. Elric," the man sighed, and Edward felt the heat in his stomach coiling, twisting tightly together, causing it slightly hard to breathe. The manager led him past workers who were trying to fix the damage; none would look him in the eye.

And then he saw it; on the far wall, above the bed, written in a scraggly handwriting that was barely registrable. The only reason he could read it, because it was written on the white, pristine walls and the light was blaring overhead quite postlude - it brought out the bright, rich, red that the words were written. The same exact color as his coat, fresh and dripping down the walls, leaving trails of blood -

_COME AND CATCH ME IF YOU CAN,  
FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST. _

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**_Don't look back. If you got something to do, only look forward. _**

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In the year that Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, has worked with him, he has never saw Edward this livid.

The blonde was completely silent as military soldiers secluded the area. He was standing still, arms crossed and his position was one of someone who was talking of the weather; he was calm, collected, and almost acted like he didn't care. But there was no mistaking it; in his eyes, there was no more fierce passion and white-hot flame that burned.

No, instead there was ice, eyes as cold as steel and as ruthlessly blank as a professional assassin. It was scaring him, to be truthful, because if this was the ferocity of Edward Elric's temper, he was starting to feel very, very, very, sorry for the person behind this. Mustang was starting to contemplate of how big a fish he actually caught in Risembool, and if the Fullmetal Alchemist was actually all he seemed.

"Um, Major Elric? Colonel Mustang?" Both alchemists turned to see Jean Havoc, who was shooting glances at the blonde boy. Mustang understood this perfectly. The poor man looked like he was about to create an accident in his pants, just by looking at Edward.

"Yes, 2nd Lieutenant?"

Mustang's head snapped to Edward, who was the one that replied. His voice was unusually crisp, clear, and clean-cutting. It reminded him briefly of a scary Major General - was it Armstrong's sister? - who was dubbed 'Ice Queen' by all military personnel a few years ago. He shook the picture out of his head, but looking at Edward, he forced himself to not laugh nervously. Why was he acting like a stupid subordinate at the moment? Shouldn't he be the responsible, commanding officer? Speaking of stupid subordinates, Mustang mused as Havoc looked uneasy.

"Um...we believe the main suspect to be the murderer that was on the loose, the ex-State Alchemist, Major Peter Ingont."

"The Radioactive Alchemist," Mustang murmured almost automatically, remembering the man when he went through files from the Information Department once. Edward's interest peaked, feeling a sense of anger taking over him. He felt like punching something, knowing that this guy used to be of his title and rank. Plus, the bastard had Alphonse, and if the man's special was radioactivity...Edward's fist tightened.

"Havoc," he started lightly, bangs covering the emotions on his face. Mustang and Havoc turned to the teen. "Go get me that file that Breda picked up." Havoc nodded and saluted raptly, before hurrying off, not bothering to ask how the younger knew Breda found the discarded mission papers. Jean passed said man and Falman about a few feet away from HQ, walking towards the hotel. They stopped him, wondering why he was so pale.

"Yo, Havoc. What's up with you? You look like the Warehouse 13 incident again." the stubbed, dark-skinned man commented, eyeing the blonde. Havoc looked to Breda, then Falman, then back at the redhead. He shook his head.

"Nothing." he muttered ignoring a shiver when he remembered what happened in the Warehouse 13 incident. "I need Major Elric's report," he finished, and Breda raised an eyebrow before grunting and handing it over hesitantly.

"2nd Lieutenant Havoc," Falman started slowly, looking worried. "Are you sure your okay?"

Havoc shook his head no. He passed glances at the other two, before motioning them to come with him. He tucked the folder in his jacket coat, and walked stiffly, as did the others, toward the scene of the crime. He answered Falman's question on the way.

"The Chief is seriously scaring me," he admitted. Breda and Falman looked at each other before stopping. Jean looked behind him and saw that both were hiding smiles. Havoc, however, did not find this funny one bit. "Just wait until you see him," he snapped. "Worse than Hawkeye on a bad day and Mustang being cranky because he didn't have a date - combined. I think even Boss is a little nervous."

Breda and Falman passed another glance behind Havoc's back, which he chose to ignore. He wasn't blind; it didn't take an idiot to see that Edward was mad. Angry. Livid. _Furious._

Jean Havoc wondered idly if the Radioactive Alchemist was going to get out of this one alive.

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Edward swore, when he found this - this idiotic _bastard,_ this _fucking son of a bitch,_ he was going to beat him so hard that Teacher would be proud. He was going to torment him and make sure in the end he would have_ Mustang burn him to a crisp._

Dammit, this was NOT his week!

First, the stupid Liore case, then the few weeks spent with Shou Tucker and Nina - Oh god, this was not a good time to be thinking about Nina - and then getting sent off to overlook some stupid mining city, and now, now, some stupid rogue alchemist had the guts to kidnap his brother. How you kidnap a seven foot suit of armor, he had no idea, but when he got to Alphonse and this, this Peter - he was going to make sure Alphonse didn't die yet, then he would kill him! How do you get yourself captured? Especially in a body like that?

This was simply the icing on the cake, the topping which finally made him blow his fuse. He was going to, any second, any day now.

It was actually a good thing that everyone was standing in a five feet radius away from him; he would definitely lose it if anyone tried to confront him. Unfortunately, someone was actually dimwitted enough to do so, and when he looked at the person who actually found the bravado to touch him and tried to reason with him, he would punch the person's face in, then give them a medal afterward when he calmed down.

"Yo! Ed! I heard about what happened." Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes started warmly, not noticing the dark look on the younger boy's face. He placed a hand on Edward's shoulder. "I came from Central Command to help, in any way. So, got any clues who took Alphonse?" Hughes grinned, trying to keep the mood light, and looked down toward the boy. He suddenly wished he didn't.

Edward's face was covered by his long bangs, and he tensed under the Lt. Colonel's touch before relaxing completely. The darkness did not disappear from his face.

"Hughes," he looked up, and all soldiers within distance turned to look at a carefully place mask with barely restrained fury. "I suggest you let go of me right now, before I break one of your bones." he threatened in a neutral tone. Hughes stared in wonder and shock at the tiny boy who had just promised him pain, and this was not Edward. Edward never threatened anybody with so much promise, not even Mustang (although it may have seemed like it.) He was always joking around, and Hughes involuntarily flinched.

When he looked into those eyes, they were pure hatred. And then, Hughes concluded that it was best to listen to him, although he himself was far older and a rank higher.

But Edward Elric was much wiser and way more mature. He had a will that was strong enough to change the world, to go against the flow of life and still survive and Hughes had no doubt - none at all - that he was also a demon when he wanted to be. He realized that no one actually knew about the real Edward Elric, because underneath that explosive temper was a boy with a mind so brilliant it blinded, a boy with a fire hotter than any flame in his eyes, a boy with a heart that may have been as cold as steel.

Fullmetal.

And it might have scared him. Just might.

**.**

**.**

**_The more steps we take forward, the longer we see the path up ahead._**

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In truth, it would have taken Edward maybe a week, maybe more, to find this kidnapper of Alphonse's. Yes, it would have, if not for the fact that he had been searching restlessly for the past few days. He had only a few clues, but that was what made this so appealing to him; the mystery, the sleepless nights, the cranky mornings and snappy attitude, it would be worth it in the end when he would punch the bastard's face in for stealing his little brother and then he would berate Alphonse so badly for getting himself stolen and then he would sleep for about two days.

His soulless eyes searched the paper files in front of him, reading every line, memorizing every word. They were imprinted into his mind, black ink against white paper, so bright in contrast that they were so easy to be memorized. He didn't understand why other people didn't have the same easiness as him.

Parried footsteps followed him, his own heavy thudding not that uncommon in the large military base. He made his way to the cafeteria specially for State Alchemists, smirking coldly when the intruder stopped stalking after him.

Edward sighed and rubbed a tired, golden, eye. He slapped down the folder on a spot on the table, then walked toward the counter to get a sandwich and coffee. He knew it was bad for his health, but it was the only thing keeping him awake. So, the caffeine would keep going into his body until he could get some sleep. He ignored the looks the other alchemists were giving his way, focusing on food first.

"Fullmetal?"

Mustang watched as subordinate turned around and he settled on a grimace upon looking at Edward's face. The blonde was pale, frightfully more than so, eyes tired and bags under his eyes, cheekbones sharper and face slightly gaunt. But what his mind was on was the fact that...he was in full military protocol.

Well, he couldn't say full, because the blonde wore the required navy blue trousers and the half-skirt like garment, but his trademark black, buckled, combat boots with red soles were still the same. He didn't wear the short military jacket over it; instead, he only had on a fitting black, long, sleeved shirt and white, pristine gloves. His bright blonde hair was out of it usual braid, instead it was tied up crisply in a high ponytail. He looked much, much older than thirteen right now, despite his lack of height. But there was one thing the same as the others in the room; the glinting chain of the State Alchemist pocket watch.

"Yes?" Edward replied, grabbing a tray without thinking, walking back to his table. Mustang followed him, a little irked that he had brushed him off so plainly. Edward sat down smoothly into his seat, Mustang following after, sitting across from him.

"Why are you wearing uniform?" Mustang blurted out, then berating himself afterward for saying the wrong thing. In all fairness, the whole weirdness of the situation was getting to him. Edward was not supposed to act this way. He was not supposed to look so...so...mature. It was wrong. He wasn't supposed to grow up now, he was barely a teen! Edward shot him an unreadable glance, raising an eyebrow.

"I believe i'm in the military, Mustang," he said scathingly, and Mustang noted the use of his name without the 'Colonel' or the 'Bastard'. Another let down. The dark-haired man frowned and his nightmare colored eyes turned harder.

"Never stopped you before." he pointed out. Edward glared at him, and Mustang noted with a smirk that the blonde's usual anger was coming through. At least his real fury was stored away for now.

"You'd think it was stupid," Edward sighed, taking a bite of his sandwich and chewing, before noticing Mustang didn't respond. He rolled his eyes and swallowed, setting down his lunch and leaning back in his chair.

"I felt that this - this rogue alchemist was making fun of me," he started, and held up a hand when the older opened his mouth. "Shut up, I'm not done."

"He just comes and takes my brother, - out of nowhere, may I remind you - and then leaves a semi-threatening message for me. It's as if he wants me to come to him, and I feel as though he's taunting me of the fact that i'm not even old enough to get my driver's license, much less be a State Alchemist and a powerful one at that." He caught the look of Mustang's face and snorted. "I'm not stupid, Colonel."

Mustang stayed silent for a while. He should have known - the only way to put the boy in uniform was as if his pride had been injured. Peter Ingont had done just that, and he had brought the blonde alchemists' family in danger too. That was not only a low blow for Edward, but it must have made him seethe. It would be one of the only things that put him in the blue and black garb he was wearing right now - Edward never looked at himself as a child, as it rightfully should be. He wasn't, Mustang mused, because children didn't belong in the military. Edward signed the rights of a child away when he entered, fully aware of this. He was technically an adult, a full-fledging, ranked member of the imperial army and Dog of the Military. He was a thirteen-year old, yet he carried the title, honor, and position of a man and he carried it convincingly.

"We've found another clue to the mission," Mustang told him after a good amount of silence. Edward's posture did not change, but his eyes glanced up from the papers. "There's been a victim, one that's come out alive - yes, I was shocked too - but she's willing to talk." He admitted to Edward's wide, surprised face. In that moment, he was relieved, because he saw a glimpse of the old Edward - or perhaps, the one he had come accommodated to.

Edward nodded, and shuffled his things together. He finished the last of his sandwich and threw the wax paper in the garbage, dropping off the extra baggage in his dorm room when they passed it.

Mustang led the way to the interrogation rooms - square abodes with metal walls and no windows, with two-way mirrors and a high sense of nervousness in the air. Edward crossed his arms and frowned. This had better be worth it, he thought silently. I already lost so much time without Al being here and the philosopher's stone.

His search was temporarily subdued, due to the fact that Alphonse wasn't here with him, reading over his shoulder and taking care of him when he himself was absorbed in information. He wouldn't look for information without his little brother there. No, because then it wasn't worth it.

Edward stayed outside while Mustang did the information picking, Havoc and Fuery at either side of him. Edward stood with Hawkeye, Falman, and Breda, and watched each movement with observant blank eyes.

Hawkeye gave him a file of the victim; 23, working at a grocery stop, living in a tenant apartment, dropped out of West City College for over-funds, a serious stuttering problem.

The girl, who's name was Simoné Williams, was tall and thin, willowy and hollow. She was dark-skinned, with bushy, dark brown hair and watery brown eyes. She seemed terrified of everything, and jumped at every small sound. It was a little irritating to watch them talk from the two-sided mirror, but Edward figured that she had just been through some traumatizing stuff with a guy that used to work for the people that were currently interrogating her.

After a half hour - he noted - Mustang came out when the girl refused to talk anymore. Edward notice that Williams seemed to be shaking now, and had to be escorted out of the room to still keep straight on two feet. Mustang was silent all the way to his office, and Edward followed, a little irked that the man wasn't talking.

When the door shut behind them, Edward immediately narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, Colonel Sparky, tell me what you know." he demanded. In that moment, Mustang smirked fully. The Edward he knew came back, if only for a little while, and the fire in his eyes returned full of warmth before they disappeared and turned back into icy nothingness. The dark-hared man hid a shiver. Edward was truly unnerving with those eyes.

He opened his mouth. "We've got him."

**_._**

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**_Sometimes we have to converge our dreams with reality. And when we can't; well, that's when your in trouble._**

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**_._**

The short, blonde alchemist breathed slightly through his mouth, every intake of air silent. Mustang allowed him to take care of this one personally, thank Truth. But the bastard was still here, and so was Hughes and the rest of Mustang's office. It wasn't like he didn't want them here - no, in fact, having Hawkeye, Havoc, and Mustang on their side was good, impeccably great - but this was something personal. He felt as if this alchemist stuck a big middle finger in his face, first by kidnapping his brother and making fun of him too; especially on a bad week.

The victim said that the man lived in the run-down tenant apartment in the outskirts of East City, near Central. It was one of those crossroad places, something that didn't really seem to belong. Edward knew just the feeling.

The building was old, and rickety, made of dark blue wood standing on a fragile-looking structure. Edward was surprised it didn't fall down yet, and he gave the house a little credit. It was good, if it lasted this long. Inside, it was all dusty and cobwebs hung off the ceiling. It looked ancient, the furniture untouched. the only sign of life available was the half-eaten food found and some clean artifacts. On many occasions, Edward looked at one in slight amusement, thinking of how even though the man was a former State Alchemist - a really hard position to get, he should know - the idiot didn't know the basics to covering his tracks. Or cleaning up after himself.

"Ugh, I don't like this guy," commented Jean Havoc as he moved around an unidentifiable item that had green mold over it and smelled funny with the butt of his pistol. "He's a mess. And it's smells funky in here." the blue-eyed blonde sniffed the air and brought his gun closer. Edward sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He felt oddly calm, even though he was super furious and had absolutely no weapon on his person at the moment.

"He's the Radioactive Alchemist, Havoc," Edward pointed out, grumbling. He scanned the area. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was doin' something illegal in there." His breath hitched slightly when a picture of Nina flashed through his eyelids, and he remembered another cold-hearted killer; the one that killed his metaphorical little sister. He swore to himself that he would get that killer too; he wasn't going to let another one get away.

Edward did find the air with a rather... pungent scent. It was the scent of sulfur, something that smelt like year-old rotten eggs and brimstone. It made him want to vomit, if not only for training with Izumi and having his nerves solidified he would have made an even more mess on the dusty floors. Looking at the other soldiers, he noticed Havoc grimacing and Hawkeye wincing, some soldiers looking green.

"How your not feeling sick, Chief, I have no idea," Havoc mumbled, covering his mouth with his hand. Edward shot the man an feral grin which sent shivers' down many spines, and turned around once again.

Edward walked forward, his heightened senses picking up a certain sound. He ignored the other soldiers (not like they did anything to stop him,) and walked with thudding steps toward the living room, past that to the kitchen, into the hallway. There was a door that was opened a creak, and Edward felt something forming inside him.

Like there was a huge pit of despair creeping up, it was leaking into his mind before he pushed it away and opened the door, the creaking sound resonating in his skull. He stared for a second at the staircases down into a large basement, where the smell of sulfur resided more strongly, now enough to make him wrinkle his nose. Oh god, how that stench was awful. But he also smirked inwardly; this so called 'criminal' wasn't very good at his job, and he led Edward straight to him.

While walking down, Edward still kept a close watch on his surroundings. This was easy, almost too easy, and it unnerved him. His instincts were never wrong, and there was a hot coil forming in his stomach, his heart was beating crazily. He felt as though there were slimy things crawling out of his chest, like there was something climbing up him and sinking into his bones.

He heard silent footsteps. His golden eyes dilated, and he narrowed them. Walking still at the same pace, he made himself look the exact same as he was earlier, and he caught the slight falter in the steps of his pursuer. He smirked in his head and someone attempted to hit his head. Practice lessons with his teacher - the scariest woman alive - were much more harder.

He tilted his head, allowing the bulky arm to fly past him. He smirked, his first real expression, then grabbed the hand and with about a fourth of his strength - this person wasn't too hard to beat- he flipped the body over his shoulder, allowing himself to fixate a knee over the person's spine to paralyze them. He held the arm that was about to hit him away from the person's face and turned it around to reveal dulled blue eyes. Edward leaned forward, smiling almost cat-like. The glow around him in the dark made him almost seem like it.

"Where is he?" the blonde sneered, and the man, terrified for words, pointed with the other hand north, where Edward could see a faint outline of a door. The corners of his lips touched up, and he nodded, before giving the blue-eyed man an automail punch in the face. He was automatically knocked out, and Edward got up and walked forward to the door, never looking back.

**_._**

**_._**

Walking inside, Edward Elric felt immediately sickened. It was some sort of lab, with steel plated walls and examination tables. There were torn apart books thrown over chairs, containers of glass and components that glowed a sickly green and smelled worse. Some vials were broken; there were of all shapes of containers with some burners and chemicals in which he recognized; the product of over-experimenting.

He sniffed the air, noticing the smell of rotten eggs - sulfur, he berated - had gotten stronger, then weaker. He growled. Looking around, he kept himself on high alert while searching for anything that looked like Alphonse.

"Al?" he called softly, hoping his little brother would hear him. "Al?"

"Brother?" Edward's heart sped up and he felt like celebrating, and for the briefest of moments, a spark ignited in his eyes. He ran toward the source of the voice.

"Al!...phonse..." he had shouted out his little brother's nickname excitedly, before the rest of his name spilled out in a horrified whisper.

Alphonse, who was truly an empty suit of armor, was...well, the only correct word for it was disassembled. The parts of his armor, all of it, was taken apart, simply useless pieces of metal. The backplate of the armor was set against the wall slightly fresh blood seal, sabatons, greaves, poleyns, cuisses, spurs, and braces around his arms sat in heaps. The breastplate was left near the backplate, and Alphonse's helmet was left on the table. Edward breathed heavily, as if he had just ran more than his usual fifteen miles.

The helmet's soul filled eyes looked at him, and all Edward could do was stare back, feeling the world falling to his feet. "Brother...I'm sorry." Alphonse's small, tinny voice could be heard.

Edward felt as though someone had punched him thirty times in the stomach. The wind left his lungs; he felt a hot, bubbling feeling burning up in him, and it spread through his arms and legs. It made his body warm, it cause his cheeks to turn red. The hot coil in his stomach from earlier, it unraveled itself and slithered around in his stomach. There was acid in his heart, it was poisoning his sense of judgment. Bile rose to his throat, and he swallowed it down, finding his tongue oddly dry and throat closed up. The corners of his vision was line with a deep, darkening red.

"No, no." Edward whispered silently. "It's not your fault, Al. It never could be." Alphonse had a feeling that Edward was talking about something instead of his capture, but right now his brother scared him. Those eyes, they were so empty, so dull, so flat...his eyes were never like that. It was cold, and sent shivers through Alphonse's...er...soul.

From behind him, Edward heard it.

"Oh? A kid? Wow, I had no idea that the famous 'Fullmetal Alchemist' would send someone else to do his dirty work."

**_._**

**_._**

**_Of all that is written, I love only what a person had written with his own blood. _**

**_._**

**_._**

At first, Edward simply stood there, motionless, and he looked at Alphonse's helmet in surprise. He was so caught off guard that he didn't know what to do. Apparently, so was Alphonse, because it showed in his soul eyes. Edward's face twisted into a smirk, though. He could use this to his advantage. Making his moves purposely, he turned halfway, so he was facing the right wall. Having his ponytail thrown carelessly over his shoulder, he placed a gloved hand on hip.

"Oh really?" he drawled out the word, as he had quickly picked up from Mustang. "Well, at least I don't go around pulling cheap tricks like this." his hitched a thumb toward Alphonse's picked-apart body. He ignored the metaphorical roll of Alphonse's eyes that he had gotten used to getting over the year, like all the other emotions. He saw the man better when he looked at him in the right light. He had hair that was so closely shaved to his head that it seemed almost like peach fuzz. He had a crooked nose, the effect of having it broken one too many times. He had a disturbing scar from under his left eye to his jaw, then Edward couldn't see the true condition of how far it went, due to shadows. His eyes were a bright, almost neon-like, green. A flash of metal around his back alerted of a possible weapon.

"No more games," The man, who Edward figured was Peter, snarled. "Where is the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

Edward shot him a feral grin. His posture changed, to one of a predatory cat's. His eyes glinted in the dark, and he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy this. He bared his teeth. "Your lookin' at him."

He didn't give the other time to respond, instead lunging forward at the man. He transmuted his signature blade, long and dully shining the the dim lighting. He was simply a navy blue and gold blur, moving fast. But this man was good; he was after all in the military too. When Edward raised his blade in a down cut, the man blocked it with his own weapon, which Edward recognized as a rogue dagger. It was long, about the size of his arm, and he deducted it was made of iron and hints of steel; almost the same as his automail. They were both head to head to each other, and the man resisted, so that they both pushed each other as they fought for wills.

"Tell, me, Ingont," he hissed."What in the world possessed you to steal my little brother?"

Ingont stumbled back as Edward twisted his hand blade and made his dagger fall to the ground. Ingont growled, and Edward noticed; the man was wearing gloves. Gloves with transmutation circles. Ingont grunted as Edward gave another slash, this time blocking it.

"It's unnatural." he spoke, voice gravel-like. "A kid like you, you shouldn't be in the military. It's unnatural. They must've been doing experiments." he wheezed. Edward looked incredulous. Was the man implying he was born in a lab?

"Are you saying I was created by the military?" he laughed, a bitter sound that resonated in the room. "Please, those idiots can't tell their elements left to right, half of them. Don't expect anything from those dolts."

He performed a downward sweeping kick that sent the man dropping into a table full of his own chemicals. In a desperate attempt, Ingont threw his weapon toward Edward, who caught the blade between his fingers before throwing the dagger in the air and catching it by the hilt. Edward looked it over critically. It was heavy, more so than a normal weapon should. The hilt though was comfortable, made of leather and encrusted with a Celtic design. He turned around to see Alphonse in pieces again, and something built itself up again in his chest. It made him heave, nostrils flare. Turning around again, he stayed completely calm as the tip of a longer blade, sword length, pointed toward his neck.

"I'm a master in swordplay," Ingont threatened, green eyes glowing in the light, looking...radioactive. "Don't try playing with me kid."

"Oh really?" Edward smiled widely, eyes filling with something unreadable. The dagger that he held behind his back was covered in a large flash of blue light and a sudden gust of wind. It was so violent Ingont stepped back a few steps, and when it died, Edward held a light version of his dagger, now the metal was stretched to form a two and a half foot long blade. It was pointed at his neck just as he did a few seconds ago. "Because, you know, my teacher did teach me all types of combat. I haven't done this in a while." Edward chuckled darkly. "You want to play? I'll play."

Ingont was the first to respond, bringing his sword up in an upslash, only to be blocked by Edward. The blonde retaliated with a horizontal cut, being able to hit Ingont and create a large wound across his torso. Ingont coughed and Edward kicked him in the chest, sending the man flying back to the wall. The house, being as old as it was, it crumbled under his weight. Edward grimaced; if that wasn't enough for the man to get some sense into his head, than he had no idea what would. But there he was, standing up, and Edward though idly, That 'ought to get the military's focus. He grinned, ignoring the fact that Alphonse was there, and charge at Ingont, who stood there ready for him.

**_._**

**_._**

Mustang heard it first. It was a large crash, shaking the whole house and sending dust and sand wood on his head. He shared a look with his faithful Lieutenant, and she nodded. Hawkeye took out her .32 Revolver, and Mustang pulled on his gloves a little more snugly on his hand. Along with him, was Havoc and his trusty GP 35. at his side and Hughes watching on seriously, Xingese-style knives called sais at his fingertips. Mustang sighed inwardly when he remembered how much Hughes liked those knives when he got them in his 'business trip' to Xing.

The area of the explosion was clear; it was in the west hallway, a door that was off it's hinges and rubble at it's step. When Mustang opened it - it was insisted he go first - the door fell to his feet and he simply threw it away. There was a lot of commotion down there, a lot of banging and grunting, and it took no idiot to know that there was Ingont and Edward down there. He started running down the steps and stopped abruptly when his blonde subordinate landed in front of him, feet set in a crouch before he shot up again.

Mustang caught a good look at his face; Edward had a cut over his right eye, and he was breathing heavily. Other than that, it didn't seem like he was injured. In fact, it seemed like he was rather unscathed, and it didn't look like he was using alchemy. Mustang ran down the rest of the way and stopped, staring at the scene.

The whole back was was destroyed, falling to pieces. He caught the broken pieces of Alphonse lying on a table - oh, that must have what set Edward off. Speaking of Fullmetal...Mustang had no idea that he could swordplay, or do so well. Every parry, every lunge, every cut was precise, even he could see that. While Edward was unhurt, the opposite could be said for Ingont. The man was weakening, only fighting with one hand and his whole chest a deep, disturbing violet color to match his blue shirt. His arm was holding his lower abdomen, and Mustang raised his hand to strike as did Hawkeye.

"Don't you dare!" Edward roared from the commotion. "Don't you dare Hawkeye! Mustang! This one is mine." he growled. Hawkeye had to put down her firearms due to getting an order from a higher ranking officer; Mustang set down his hand due to feeling a little overwhelmed with the situation. He didn't know any of that complicated fighting, only the basics of hand-to-hand combat. Alchemy was more of his style; but Edward did, and Mustang had a feeling he knew a lot.

Ingont knew that he was going to loose, so the next time Edward lunged at him, he gathered all of his strength and rolled back, getting up and running toward the wall he had collapsed on earlier, knowing it was an exit. Edward stood there, furious, that the bastard was quitting this.

"Coward!" He screeched, aiming his blade at the wall beside the spot Ingont was going to run into, and he threw it like a javelin. But he didn't expect Ingont to run so fast, or for him to turn around to face him - and the blade pierced through his chest, where the heart was, right into the wall.

Edward stared in horror at what he had just done. He stared at the green-eyed man, who's bright vivid irises started to lose their life as his body went limp and cold. The rest of military stood, not daring to move, stunned at what happened. Hawkeye was the first to move, ordering the men behind her to move. Mustang looked at the boy, the boy who he was now wary of.

He never knew Edward had the guts to kill someone, not right now. He figured the blonde would get easier with the idea when he was older, but what happened right now changed his mind; Edward Elric was too complicated to figure out. He was a brother, a father figure, a child genius, an alchemist, a child, an adult, a soldier, and now he found out he was an impeccable aimer. It was head on, and he steeled his nerves and approached the boy, who had stood up and removed the sword from the now dead man's chest.

Edward remembered at the slight moment when he felt proud of himself when the blade hit flesh. His teacher had taught him many things; Alphonse may have been better at hand-to-hand combat, but he was the best at fighting with weapons. That's why he always tried to minimize fighting with them; it was so natural, it came to him so easily, it was so frightening to see how much power he really did have. And when he hit his target, spot on - as he knew he would, and that's what sickened him - he felt good for a second. He was getting rid of someone who was mocking him, who decided to challenge him blindly.

Then he felt sick, sick because he just took another's life and he diminished it. He ended it, and he felt good about it. And that's what sickened him. He was so happy that Alphonse's soul went unconscious after a while, because he wouldn't be able to stand his little brother's despaired look. He looked at the blood covered blade, then to the man slumped on the floor, lifeless.

He never wanted to kill. And here he did it.

He shrugged off Mustang's hand on his shoulder, and did the same when Hughes tried. He simply got a wooden crate, filled in Alphonse's parts, making sure not to misplace anything, and carried it off toward HQ. He didn't look back on the dead body or the soul-less eyes.

He didn't talk about it when he fixed his little brother's armor the next day, he ignored Hughes' and Mustang's looks toward him, he didn't tell Alphonse what happened when they inspected the dead body, he didn't turn away when they told him that it wasn't Peter Ingont he killed, instead his son: William Ingont who had gone insane from toxic poisoning, and his father died from mercury poisoning. He didn't respond when they asked him how he'd gotten so good at fighting, he didn't do anything.

And slowly, the burning flame returned to his eyes, the determination came back full-fledged and he was Edward Elric once more. But there was always those eyes haunting him, those bright, lipid irises that lost their color and he was the reason why.

The first time Edward Elric ever killed was when he was thirteen.

And in the process, he lost some of himself too, no matter how hard he tried to keep it together.

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow. **_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, action nor utterance, nor the power of speech, to stir a man's blood.  
I only speak right on.  
I tell you that which you yourselves do not know;  
The reason why we we still kill, when in turn, it kills some of us inside. _

**_._**

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End file.
